


Whoever said Romance is Dead?

by Anxious_Apple



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Biting, Boredom, Canon Gay Relationship, Complete, Crack Treated Seriously, Halloween Costumes, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, Office Sex, Porn With Plot, Roleplay, Rough Kissing, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 17:21:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20911295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anxious_Apple/pseuds/Anxious_Apple
Summary: Ben decides to have some fun with Callum during a slow day at the Funeral Parlour. After all, halloween's only a few days away.





	Whoever said Romance is Dead?

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was inspired by this amazing artwork  
https://smugfacebitchell.tumblr.com/post/188106053438/inktober-day-3-bait

It was an ordinary day at the Coker and Mitchell undertakers, there was the usual pervading silence which covered everything. This would be offputting, even scary to some people, knowing not far off there were boxes used to house corpses, and various tools and makeup items that would make them look... well... less corpse like, but Callum Highway had gotten used to it. To him it was as ordinary as any other office-not that he'd ever worked in one before. He sat amidst the amiable quiet surrounded by a stack of paperwork, this unfortunately just the same as any other workplace. The documents towered over him like some monolith of monotony. He worked through them with admirable dedication, pulling from the top a list of requests for an old woman who'd passed a week ago.  
He looked at it and felt a tiny twist in his stomach. A twist of guilt more than anything. As much as he wanted to get upset about each and every individual case they sort of blended together after a while, death after all is depressingly persistant. But he supposed it made sense to become numbed to the feelings after a while, to see the clients only as numbers, otherwise who could possibly do the job?

He took a sip of a (now cold) cup of tea that he'd made himself to take away the sting of boredom and looked at his watch with a sigh, it was half three. He had another dull three hours until he could clock off and go home. It wasn't that he wished people dead, but sometimes, on slow days he couldn't help but wish for the grim reaper to off a bunch of people, If only to save him from the filing. He'd told jay over and over again how he was tired of doing it, but he was too soft to actually follow through with anything.

Suddenly the front door closed with a soft bump, like it was being drawn open and shut by the wind. He looked up from Mrs Morgan's file, (82, Lung Cancer) and decided to get up and see what's what.  
"Y'all right?" He called into the empty corridor, his voice reverberating off the walls. He took a step into the hall and tried again "Hello? Need somethin?" Expecting to see a pensioner he tried one more time, but just the same as before got nothing back. Something felt off. He looked up and down the hallway, scanning as best he could the doors which ran up and down finally seeing a crack of light coming from the room at the very end. Feeling a shiver of aprehension shoot up his spine he ignored it and stepped out of the office. The walk to the end of the corridor was strangely cold, adding fuel to the idea that it was just a breeze that had caused the sound. But Callum was sure that he'd not left a light on, and there was definitely nobody visiting today. He peered around the door, and tentatively stepped into the room.

As if triggered by a hidden pressure plate the coffin lid creaked, slow and sure like a gust of wind were pushing it. But underneath, like some hellish jack in the box, was a human figure, short, stocky and all in black. He was laughing, drawing a noise up from his throat which made Callum shudder. Mwahahahaha... MUAHAHAHAHAAAAA  
Ben fucking Mitchell, of course it was. "What the hell are you doin'" Callum gasped, backing up against the wall with a thundering heart, pulse in his throat. The same familiar face, smug grin and all appearing like a scruffy Bela Lagosi.  
"Sorry about tha' Cal," Ben said, not sounding sorry at all "Felt a bit stiff an' I fancied a lie down." He could be sure he winked at him, which still made him blush even after the events of the Mitchell/Highway punch up and the oh so public kiss. There was still something that felt awkward about it. Maybe it was just his status as a "baby gay"  
"Are you kiddin'?" Callum gawped in disbelief, taken aback all over again by the audacity of the man. "someone's paid for that"

"Gimme a break will ya I've been locked out." Up there on the Bier he reached out expectantly, like a princess wanting assistance to get out of a car.  
"Why?" Callum asked as he reluctantly grabbed Ben's hand and helped him to the ground.  
"Dad's got pissed off with me for the fifth time this week," Ben said, dusting himself down "some stuff's goin' on with Sharon and 'im but yet again I'm caught in the firin' line. Knew you'd be in though so I just thought I'd pop in, say 'ello."  
"And have a kip in a coffin?" It was a ludicrous scenario, absolutely unbelieveable, and yet Callum managed to say this with a straight face. He wouldn't put anything past him. He was like Stuart that way, too bloody gutsy for his own good. Maybe more than Stuart, since he'd been so open about his sexuality for so long, putting up with punches and thrown slurs. Not even Stuart would be that brave.  
Ben shrugged heartily, and rolled his eyes, finding a corner to stand in instead "Nobody was usin' it anyway" he said. And it was true, nobody was due for a few days.  
Exasperated Callum drew a hand across his face, feeling his skin burning beneath his fingers. "I don't care. It's just wrong!"  
"I didn't piss in it or anythin'" Ben objected, hands on hips, the very vision of the gay stereotype.  
"you're as bad as Stu and Rainie comin' in here for a meal" Callum said in frustration, his stomach doing flips now. The last time he'd been this flustered around Ben he'd punched him, the heat overwhelming. But there was something there that they both acknowledged, something that they were seemingly both willing to act on this time, so he wasn't sure exactly where his energy would end up going.  
  
Ben coughed out a laugh and his fascade dropped "A meal?" immediately Callum regretted his words. He felt his face turn pink again.  
"It don't matter," he hurried, pushing the other man to the door with a light grip on his shoulders "can you just get out please? Jay'd go mad if he saw you in 'ere. Someone's comin' in tomorrow. Least come in the parlour"  
This didn't stop Ben from chuckling "Did they 'ave some Fava Beans and a Nice Chianti?" he said, smirking slightly  
"I said Out, now." Callum's voice cracked like a little boy's, causing him to stop altogether. He then looked at Ben sheepishly, who was now grinning from ear to ear.  
"I could imagine your brother goin' all silence of the lambs! And that Rainie? Well, she'd do anythin' for a quick shag. I mean she did it with Ian bloody Beal for christ's sake. Even I wouldn't go there, IF we weren't related... obviously"  
"Ben please" the taller man's voice had softened now, exasperation turned to exhaustion. It was a jobsworth kind of mumble, one which lied when in reality all he wanted to do was shut him up forcefully.  
"Hannibal Highway!" Ben beamed, not listening whatsoever. "Thought he was a bit of a psycho" Then he pricked up a finger, a lightbulb flashing on above his head "Wait a minute..." he started "are you sayin' that you let 'em in?" Callum flushed and looked at his feet, attempting to swallow the awkwardness like a piece of chewing gum he gulped once, then again. "You did din't ya!" Ben was triumphant "You was in work and you let 'em eat cod and chips off a casket?!" A reluctant nod. "Then why're you havin' a go at me?"  
Here it was. This was the million pound question, and one which he would have to formulate an answer for, and a good one "He's my brother!" Callum finally explained, hiding behind his family and knowing how flimsy of an excuse this really was.  
"So?" Ben Prompted. _Wrong answer _  
"He's Stuart" Ben gave him another, shrewd look which quite obviously said _And_

_he's delicate,_ Callum wanted to say, _he's family, _he had an obligation. As much of a prick as he could be at times he'd been bought up (and subsequently trained) to look after people, to help them out when they needed it. It was what a decent bloke would do, a decent soldier. He liked helping Stuart as well, if only because it meant he'd be nicer to him. He'd been good enough to try to understand him the last few weeks, even if he was a little bit clumsy in expressing it.

_He's family, and I can treat him like a brother. You distract me too much_ Callum finally resigned himself to the thought, after a lingering silence and a prolongued puzzled look from Ben _I can't have you in here without wanting to hold you, to touch you to feel your skin against mine. It was difficult enough when I hated you. But now? When I know how I feel and how you feel? It's even harder to be a professional_


End file.
